


In a Mirror, Darkly

by QueenoftheFriendzone



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe, Family, Gen, Harry has a family, How Do I Tag, IT'S REAL, Pre-Goblet of Fire, Ron is a Good Bro, and Harry has to make some sacrifices, but what's new, oh also they have to do everything without Hermione's help, or is it fantasy, or maybe he doesn't
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-17
Updated: 2015-08-17
Packaged: 2018-08-15 12:11:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,616
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8055805
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/QueenoftheFriendzone/pseuds/QueenoftheFriendzone
Summary: Was it morning already? Was Aunt Petunia breaking down his door to make him cook breakfast? The words sounded like something Aunt Petunia would say, but something was…off.The person knocked on the door again. Three times. Gentle. “Harry,” they called, “it’s time to wake up, darling!” Darling. Darling? That was not Aunt Petunia any more than it was a hippogriff in orange robes.But if it wasn’t Aunt Petunia…who was it?----Or: Harry gets thrown into an alternate universe and has to figure out how to get back, of if he wants to get back at all.





	In a Mirror, Darkly

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I don't own, you don't sue. Much thanks!
> 
> This is basically what happens when I have work to do. I've never actually posted a fic before, and I really hope you all enjoy this!
> 
> Star Trek is wonderful inspiration for fics, by the way.

Eyelids heavy with weariness, Harry burrowed his face into his pillow and sighed. Another summer, another torturous three months with the Dursleys. Past records showed that summer with his relatives (only by blood, he insisted) never ended well, and he could only imagine what terrors lay in store for him in the coming months. Reveling in the final moments of bliss, Harry drifted off once more into a light sleep.

“Harry?” a voice called faintly. Several gentle knocks sounded on his door before the voice spoke again, “Harry, wake up you sleepyhead.”

Was it morning already? Was Aunt Petunia breaking down his door to make him cook breakfast? The words sounded like something Aunt Petunia would say, but something was…off.

The person knocked on the door again. Three times. Gentle. “Harry,” they called, “it’s time to wake up, darling!” Darling. _Darling_? That was not Aunt Petunia any more than it was a hippogriff in orange robes.

But if it wasn’t Aunt Petunia… _who was it_?

Harry opened his eyes. The sunlight streamed through the curtains, bathing the entire room in soft light. His room, Harry saw, was the same as it had been just before he fell asleep. School robes tossed to the side, books strewn on the floor and table, even the floorboard under which he’d hidden his homework was crooked the same way. It was still the same room.

And yet it wasn’t.

The walls were coated with fresh paint. The dent Dudley had made with a cricket bat during a temper tantrum was gone. His Firebolt was propped up against a wall. The bed was softer, the shelves stacked with magical books instead of muggle ones and was that a moving picture he was seeing on his dresser?

It made Harry’s head whirl.

“Harry?” called the voice again.

Harry sucked in a breath. Whoever was outside the door sounded friendly. Possibly. There was only one way to tell. “I’m up!” he called, sitting up in bed.

The door opened, and Harry wanted to yell in shock and glee all at once.

“Finally!” said the red-headed woman, smiling. “Your dad’s left for work already, but I’ve got breakfast on the table for you.”

The only response Harry mustered was a shocked stare.

“Harry dear, is anything the matter?” the woman – Mom. She was his _mom._ – asked.

“Not at all, mom,” he said, forcing a weak smile. “I just had a really weird dream.”

Lily Potter shrugged. “Okay then, I’ll see you downstairs for breakfast!” she said, then she closed the door and was gone.

“Mom,” murmured Harry. How was this all possible? It had to be a dream. Of course it was a dream. His parents were dead, for crying out loud! Were dead and had been dead for fifteen years now! He squeezed his eyes shut, and pinched himself hard. “I’m dreaming,” Harry muttered desperately, “I’m dreaming and I’m asleep in my room at the Dursleys' and when I open my eyes I’ll wake up and everything will be real and as it was when I went to sleep. And I’m going to wake up in three… two…one…”

He opened his eyes.

The Firebolt was still in the corner. A book had fallen off the shelf and was walking towards the window. The people in the photograph were still waving at him. Hedwig cooed gently from her perch at the window. Nothing had changed.

So he wasn’t sleeping, then. Was this an effect of some spell or potion, then? Something that altered the victim’s perception of reality? There were spell and potions that could do that, he knew, but he’d hadn’t consumed anything in the half day before he slept, and there was no way anyone would have been able to cast a spell on him without him realizing it.

So _what the bleeding hell was going on_?

Eventually, Harry realized that there was no simple way to gather any answers by lazing about in his room. With resigned curiosity, he pulled on a shirt and made his way downstairs for breakfast.

* * *

 

“There you are, Harry!” came a gleeful yell from a black-haired man on the sofa in the living room.

If Harry hadn’t been prepared for the drastic differences between the world he knew and this, he would have fallen the rest of the way down the stairs. As it was, he only stumbled, stubbed his foot rather painfully on a step, and let fly several swear words.

“Language, Harry!” called Lily from the kitchen.

“Ah, let him be, Evans! He’s a grown kid!” Sirius Black yelled back, because that was just who the man on the sofa was. Or at least, someone that _looked_ like Sirius Black, just like someone else looked like Lily Potter nee Evans.

“What’s the matter, Harry?” Sirius asked, as Harry finally made it down the stairs. “You look like you’ve just seen two dragons – “

“Black!” screeched Lily.

“– fly into the Ministry of Magic and totally wreck the place,” Sirius finished, pulling a face in Lily’s direction.

Harry grinned, then sobered. This was not the Sirius Black that had emerged from twelve years in Azkaban, bent on revenge. This was a different Sirius, like the one laughing in James and Lily’s wedding picture, a person Harry didn’t know at all. “Just a really weird dream, Sirius,” he said,

“Dreams do that to you,” Sirius said sagely, “why, once Moony dreamt –” he stopped abruptly, his face changing, and his eyes drooping, and suddenly, Harry could see the age behind the laugh lines on his face.

So, something bad had happened to Remus, then. But there was no time to wonder, as Lily set down a plate of toast and eggs, and beckoned for Harry to eat his breakfast.

Throughout the meal, Harry remained silent. He cataloged his situation carefully, comparing this world with the world that he knew.

His parents were alive here. Sirius never went to jail. Harry never lived with the Dursleys, never lived in a cupboard, never got his Hogwarts letter delivered to him by a giant on an island in the middle of the ocean.

Harry’s mind strayed to Hogwarts. It still existed here, of course, and he still attended it, judging by the robes in his room. Was he still friends with Ron, then? Or Hermione? Was Dumbledore still Headmaster?

Was Voldermort still alive?

Belatedly, Harry realized that his mother was speaking to him.

“– leven, remember?”

“I’m sorry, but could you repeat that again, mom?”

“Ron’s coming over at eleven, Harry. You haven’t forgotten, have you? Oh, and you should probably also clean your room before he Floos here.”

Well, at least Ron was still his friend here. If Ron was still Ron.

* * *

 

Eleven o’clock came earlier than Harry expected. His room was packed with things that he’d never been allowed to have back at the Dursleys. There were photographs of his family, of Sirius and Remus, of Ron and all the other Weasleys, all waving and smiling and moving. His magical textbooks were stacked on his shelf. The loose floorboard which had been used to hide food and homework now stored a substantial collection of Chocolate Frog cards and Owl Treats. He had meant to tidy his room, but with discovery after discovery of new items, the task had long been forgotten.

Fireplace chimed just as Harry found a handheld mirror in one of his drawers. Placing it back amongst the other paraphernalia he had found, Harry rushed downstairs where Ron had already emerged from the fireplace, and was lying in a heap on the floor.

“Will you ever learn how to land, Ron?” Sirius asked amusedly from his spot on the sofa.

“Sirius!” Ron exclaimed, a little too loudly.

“Ron!” Sirius mimicked.

“Hello, Ron,” Lily chimed in, looking up from her book.

“Erm…morning, Mrs Potter.”

“Ron!” Harry called from the top of the stairs, “come on up! I’ve got something to show you!”

Ron cast a spooked look at everything around him, before following Harry up.

“Your scar, Harry! It’s gone!” Ron blurted, as soon as the door shut.

“My scar?” Harry echoed.

Ron looked even more uncomfortable. “It’s nothing. I…I just thought…”

But Harry’s fingers skimmed his forehead and found that the lightning-shaped mark that had plagued his life had indeed been replaced with smooth unblemished skin. “It’s not there!” Harry whispered in amazement. “How is it not there?”

“So you know, then?” Ron asked, “that everything has changed?”

“That depends,” Harry said carefully. “How did we get to school in Second Year?”

“Dad’s flying Ford Anglia. Who quit Divination last year?”

“Hermione.”

Ron let out a noise of relief similar to how Harry felt and sank onto Harry’s bed. “Thank Merlin!” he said, “I thought I’d go bonkers back at my house!”

“So you know what’s going on?” Harry asked. “Or how we got here?”

“No clue how we arrived. I just fell asleep last night and blam! Throw in into a new world. But I’ve been hearing complaints about the Ministry from Dad since I woke up and Percy has been arguing with him for just about forever. Compared to ours, this world is absolutely insane!”

“Insane how?”

“The Ministry’s in shambles, Hogwarts is a wreck, and You-Know-Who’s still out there. The Wizarding World is terrorizing muggles and muggleborns, and guess who’s Minister of Magic?”

“Dumbledore?” Harry offered.

Ron let out a short laugh. “No, it’s Lucius Malfoy.”

“ _What_?”

“Yeah, I know.”

“Figures, the Malfoys are still as slimy as they were in our world.”

“How about Hermione?”

“Can’t. Contact with muggles and muggleborns is strictly forbidden under some law I think I heard Dad talking about.”

“That sucks.”

“Yeah.”

They both fell silent, taking in the vast difference between this world and their own. Harry found himself wondering about the rest of the Wizarding World. Sure, his life seemed to have improved. No Dursleys, parents alive, Sirius healthy and free, but when he compared that to what the rest of the world, both Wizarding and muggle, must have been experiencing under the reign of Lucius Malfoy, suddenly everything didn’t seem so sweet after all. How had the laws changed? How were the muggles and muggleborns treated?

 “Are the Chudley Cannons making any progress here?” Harry asked, finally.

Ron’s shoulders sagged. “No,” he muttered glumly, “They’re still last.”

Ron left later with a promise to find out as much about this world as he could, and Harry promised the same.

* * *

 

It was a week before Harry next heard from Ron.

That same week, Harry had gone to a quidditch game with his parents and Sirius, lost a prank war with James to Sirius and Lily – “Dishonour on you, Prongs!” Sirius had taken great glee in shouting. “Dishonour on your family! Dishonour on your cow!” – and eaten dinner with his family. He was starting to enjoy this world. To enjoy what it felt like having loving parents for the first time.

He’d also managed to learn things which were less happy. Like how Hogwarts was under the leadership of Minerva McGonogall because Dumbledore had fallen in a Death Eater raid last year. Or like how Remus had been executed on the grounds of being a werewolf, like the other thousand or so other werewolves that had been rounded up and killed. Or like how Peter Pettigrew was still a Death Eater and had still betrayed his friends and was the reason why James was blind.

It was conflicting, to say the least.

He was losing spectacularly to Sirius in a game of wizarding chess when the letter came. Or rather, when the letter crashed into the window pane, carried by what looked like a very old feather duster that slid numbly down the glass.

“Errol!” Harry yelped, rushing to the window to rescue the Weasley’s family owl. Catching him by the legs as he fell, Harry hauled Errol into the house and onto the kitchen table and untied the letter. “Sirius!” he called, “I’ll be right back! I’ve just got to respond to this letter from Ron!”

“It’s just because you’re losing to the Chess Master, isn’t it!” Sirius responded.

“Chess Master?” James snorted, entering the living room. “What’s this nonsense about being the Chess Master? Lily could kick your ass any day.”

Harry retreated to his room just as Sirius began a new game against James.

As soon as he shut the door, Harry’s trembling fingers scrabbled to break the seal and open the letter.

 _Dear Harry_ , it read, _how has your week been? I’ve only just managed to borrow Errol to send this letter. I’ve found out loads about this place, but I’m sure you’ve probably heard it all by now, what with your dad being in the ministry and all. I heard about Remus and Dumbledore too. I’m sorry. This world is so messed up! Anyway, I found this spell in an old book at_ Flourish and Blotts _. I bought the book but Errol wasn’t strong enough to carry the whole thing, so I’ve torn the important pages out. Thing is, this spell can probably send us home! I say ‘probably’, because the book was written by some Watt M.I. Doeng, and, well, it’s a very old book. But I’m willing to try it if you are. We need to do the spell together for it to work. Is ten tonight a good time?_

_Look, Harry, I know you’re really happy to have your parents back, and I know that once we return, you’ll be with those horrid relatives of yours. But think about the rest of the world, yeah? In the very least, do it for Hermione and Remus and Dumbledore?_

_– Ron_

Along with the letter were two thin pieces of yellowing parchment headed “ _The Spell of Returning_ ”.

Harry thought about his parents. He thought about the world they were living in. The world where muggleborns were oppressed, where the government was corrupt, where Voldemort still terrorized people. Lily wasn’t living in this world – she was surviving as a muggleborn. James was blind and bitter about friendships long past. Sirius hated the way pureblood supremacists controlled every aspect of his life as a disowned Black.

This world may have been so much better for him, but it felt so much worse for everyone else, Harry realized. Wasn’t it unfair, then, to carry on living here just to be able to see his parents?

When night fell, Harry had made his decision.

For the last time, he hugged his parents and Sirius and wished them goodnight.

“I love you. Mom,” he whispered into Lily’s shoulder, her red hair tickling his nose. She put a finger under his chin and said, “never doubt that I love you, Harry.”

Heart aching fiercely, Harry locked his door behind him and drew his wand.

* * *

 

“Get up, you lazy good-for-nothing boy!” screeched a voice from outside the door, followed by loud, angry raps.

Harry blinked. Rubbing the vestiges of sleep from his eyes, he sat up in bed. In _his_ bed. In his bed that was in his room that existed in his world.

“Open this door at once, young man!”

“Boy, you will listen to your Aunt!”

Living in his relatives’ – only by blood, he reminded himself – house.

Had it all been a dream then? All a figment of his imagination in order to cope with the prospect of returning to 4 Privet Drive?

As he cast a resigned look at his pillow, a glimmer of red caught his eye.

It was a strand of hair, far too long to be his, and far too red.

His mother’s voice rang in his head.

“ _Never doubt that I love you, Harry._ ”

Smiling, he opened the door.


End file.
